


I Think I'll Stay At The Bunker Next Time

by Fluff_Glorious_Fluff (Levy_McGarden_42)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, But it works for both, Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Torture, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt, Hurt and comfort, LoreExpert!Reader, M/M, Meant for a female reader though, Reader-Insert, Sam is bf, Technically Gender Neutral, Torture, Werewolf Hunt, gender neutral reader, gentleman demon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:56:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Levy_McGarden_42/pseuds/Fluff_Glorious_Fluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Reader (you) are the lore expert here, strictly for support while the Winchesters are in the field... until Sam and Dean need you on a werewolf hunt. And then you end up in the hands of a demon. Some torture, but there's going to be a ton of fluff after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I'll Stay At The Bunker Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Ey, I tried to keep it gender-neutral, so hopefully it works. Y/N = Your Name. Y/L/N = Your Last Name. At Miss/Mr., just pick which one you are. No torture in this chapter. Also, Sam is your boyfriend. Cough. Something that probably should be mentioned, because I hinted at it but didn't say it out loud. And you're pretty good friends (purely platonic) with Dean. Enjoy!

No. No. It couldn’t have happened. Not to you. It shouldn’t have happened. Couldn’t have happened. Not with Sam there with you. 

You, him, and Dean had been going to find the civilians that had been kidnapped by a werewolf. You were all decked out with silver- knives and daggers, mostly- because they had felt the need for you on the field instead of at the bunker, researching. 

You were on your toes, every noise and shadow making you jump. Sam was in front of the you. Dean was following the two of you in the threadbare and patchy hallway, its walls covered in sketchy stains. 

It was an abandoned warehouse that used to package canned foods, but that was a long time ago. Now it was the lair of a werewolf. 

You reached a juncture in the maze of hallways. Ahead was a sturdy-looking door, and to the left there was 90 degree turn. 

After a short pause, Sam stepped in front of the turn and flung out his gun in front of him, a silver throwing knife at the ready in his other hand. Apparently there wasn’t a threat, because he lowered his weapons and nodded to the door. 

Dean stepped forwards and tensed, preparing to kick it open, but you quickly threw your hand out in front of him. You moved to the door handle and twisted it. It emitted a faint click, and you gave Sam a small smile. 

At this, Dean let out a low chuckle and moved into the room, dagger at the ready. Except for a ragged couch and old blood stains on the walls, it was empty. Same as every other room you’d checked.

After a quick glance revealed nothing, you moved towards the door. Remembering the rule that the Winchesters had made you agree to -it hadn’t been hard to say yes, actually- you paused to let Sam go first. He cautiously stepped out the door.

At the hotel room you and the Winchesters had stayed at last night, Sam and Dean had come forward with a proposal. Considering you weren’t exactly field material, in order to keep you safe they wanted you have one of them on either side of you the entire time you were in the building. If not, you stayed in the hotel room. Since you had been quietly worrying you going into the field unprotected, and you knew as well as they did that they needed you on the mission, you agreed. 

You were close on Sam’s heels as he walked out of the room, and you knew Dean was right behind you as well. It made you feel safe, having the protection of the Winchesters.   
Remembering this, some of the tension left your shoulders. You found yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you crossed the room’s threshold. 

Behind you, the door shut with a slam. You spun around. You could hear Dean pounding on the door, but it only gave a faint shuddering. You grabbed the handle, yanking it towards you. Nothing. You frantically banged on the door, trying desperately to knock it in. 

Behind you, Sam let out a shout. Your head snapped up in time to see Sam’s body hurled through the air, down the long hallway. 

“Y/N!” His voice cut off as he hit a discarded table marooned in the hallway, and you watched, horrified, as Sam crumpled into a heap. 

You tried to run to Sam, but an invisible force slammed you to the door.The handle stabbed into your side. You could feel the shudders of Dean banging on the door from behind you. Sheer panic set in.

You shrieked. You would have been scared of that sound had you paid any heed to the animalistic screech coming out of your mouth, but you were too busy struggling to get out of the grip you were in. Your voice cut off abruptly as your jaw was shut. You could only get a whimper out of your closed mouth. Behind the door, you could hear Dean yelling and the door’s shudderings increase.

You couldn’t run, couldn’t fight, couldn’t scream. Sam was going to save you. He always did. Of course he would. He was just playing, right? It was just an act. You watched Sam out of the corner of your eye because you couldn’t turn your head. Any second now he would stand up, dust himself off, and say “We really got you with that one, Y/N!” 

And Dean would open the door and walk out, laughing. You would punch him on his shoulder and he would pretend that it hurt. And you would fold your arms and huff and pretend that you hadn’t already forgiven them. And Sam would say, “Don’t be like that, Y/N,” and then he would give you a kiss and then you wouldn’t be able to pretend anymore. 

But it didn’t happen. 

Sam stayed in a crumpled heap. Dean was still pounding on the door, and you could see someone coming down the hallway. A silhouette, advancing at a stroll. Like it was on a Sunday evening. 

When it was close enough to tell, you could see that the figure was human- a man, in dark clothes and boots. The werewolf. 

Your mind was scrambling, the lore expert in you dredging up information to help you cope with your panic. You were fighting to recall the date of the first documented sighting of a werewolf when the figure gave a sickening smile, derailing your thought process. And then his eyes flickered black. 

In your jumbled state, you were trying to figure out if werewolf’s eyes went dark before you realized that there was only one thing whose eyes flickered black. And it wasn’t a werewolf.

It was a demon. 

Tendrils of fresh horror ran down your body. You had never actually seen one in person. Just researched them. You had only confronted them in the dark of night when you asked “what-if” and ran countless scenarios through your head, ready with a solution, prepared for every situation. But not this one. Not this one. 

Courtesy of your preparation, the Latin exorcism came to your lips; but your jaw was locked. It was useless. Instead, you tried chanting the incantation inside your head to try to calm your nerves, but the demon was still smiling, and the door was still shuddering. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. All you could do was feel chilled to the bone as it stepped closer and closer. 

Inside of your mind, only one unifying thought was getting through above the babbling background of overwhelming panic: “Sam! SAM! SAM!” As if your terror might be loud enough to mentally convey it to the unconscious heap of a Winchester down the hallway. 

The demon was right there in front of you. Now his eyes looked normal, like maybe he was just a man going for a walk in a closed canning factory/werewolf nest. Like any second now he would take out his phone and call his wife and ask what they were having for dinner that night. Like he was an average guy who was worried about how much money he had in his bank account, or needed to get to bed soon because he had to get up early for his suburban job. 

Dean’s banging on the door behind you testified that the man was not any of those things. He was a supernatural being that would just as soon kill you as look at you. 

The demon stopped about a foot away from you.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said as he stretched out a hand, tracing your jawline with his fingertip. Your skin crawled and your heart was in your throat. 

Every demon case the boys had done was flashing before your eyes, the horrible information whirling in your brain. The black-eyed soulless creatures that spread pain mercilessly and had no regard for lives. One of them was right before your eyes. 

“I couldn’t just leave you here with these two barbarians in good conscience, could I? You know, I hear you’re only as good as the company you keep. You really should think about who you associate with, Miss/Mr. Y/L/N.” 

If you could have made a sound, at that moment you would have laughed. But you were glad you couldn’t, because your laugh probably would have sounded like it had gone through a cheese grater because panic was tight in your chest. A demon, lecturing you on keeping good company? It almost made you forget that Dean was still trying to get out of the room behind you, and that Sam was knocked out down the hallway. Almost. So as it was, you were still quite aware of it when you felt Dean stop pounding on the door. 

“See? He’ll leave you alone now.” He gave that sickening smile again, and it was worse up close. You wanted to throw up. 

“In fact, I think you require some intervention to break you of their company. You keep dangerous friends in dangerous professions, Miss/Mr. Y/L/N. Sam over there was knocked out by a demon not long ago, was he not? And his brother is currently facing a werewolf in a small, enclosed room. Neither have high chances of survival, Miss/Mr. Y/L/N.”

The werewolf?! Your heart stopped. Dean was supposed to have you and Sam backing him up. Now it was just him and a werewolf. You comforted yourself with the thought that he had done it before.

“In fact, I think I will take you with me to ensure that you receive the message loud and clear. And perhaps you will tell me a thing or two in return, hmm, Miss/Mr. Y/L/N?”

He fished a rag out of his pocket. “Much more efficient this way, don’t you think?” The rag was to your nose before you realized what it was, and by the time you inhaled, it was too late. 

The last thing you remembered, before the chemical smell overpowered you, was his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked that. Will probably write something more soon. Also, you know that moment when you should be doing work but are instead writing SamxReader fanfiction? Yeah, that was me. But um, kudos, comments, definitely comments, and encouragements help me work faster. And I may bump the rating up to teen for the torture part- iono if I should, does torture in the SPN fandom warrant that? Please tell me because I honestly don't know. Also, any ideas on what the demon wants to know? I'm only just finished with season four. I have no idea if they know where the bunker is or anything like that, so if you know something that demons would want to know (and would torture someone for), please tell me. See ya for now,
> 
> ~Fluff_Glorious_Fluff, aka Levy_McGarden_42


End file.
